


spooky scary skeletons

by jonphaedrus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Intercrural Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Stockings, what has been seen cannot be unseen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack displays his not so secret urge to have his head crushed between Gabe's thighs like a grape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spooky scary skeletons

**Author's Note:**

> i cant believe i got fucking conned into this im ashamed of everyone i know and myself, mostly.
> 
> summary donated by [sushi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chuchisushi/pseuds/chuchisushi)

Jack stared at Reaper, who glared right back, the impact somewhat lessened by the fact that he’d peeled his bodysuit down to his knees and was now sitting there most of the way ass-naked in the middle of a damp, dark warehouse. At least he assumed Gabe was glaring at him; he was acting like he was. It was hard to tell through the mask.

“ _Garters_?” His voice came out, at long last, cracking in the middle in a potent mix of surprise, horror, and more than a little bit of arousal. “Are you seriously wearing garters?” He gestured to the all-black leather getup that the other man was wearing. It was skintight already, so what was the point in garters and thigh-high stockings?

Reaper ripped his mask off and huffed an angry breath. "You ever plastered leather to your body like it was fucking latex, Morrison?"

"Can't say I've ever tried," he replied, earning a knee in the ribs that punched the breath out of him as he struggled to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way before he started fumbling with his trousers, since apparently they were taking a break in peeling Gabe like he was a fucking goth banana, "Why, do you think I should?"

"You'd probably hurt yourself trying to get it on. Don't bother." Jack wanted to barb back, but didn't have the energy. "Takes a lot of sports lube—" he almost choked, "And you want something on your skin to keep it breathing. Like _stockings_." Gabe gestured furiously at his incredible thighs—thighs that Jack would, only under duress, admit that he figured were his best bet to die. If he had to go, he intended to go with Gabriel Reyes popping his goddam skull like a grape between his thighs.

"Are you telling me your thighs are so big you can't keep your fucking stockings on?"

"Morrison," Reyes snarled, teeth bared, and he (wisely) let the subject drop. Instead, he just leaned forward, bit rather than kissed at Gabriel's lips, and pressed his knees up toward his chest. 

"Couldn't you just...black-smoke into your stupid body-glove?" He asked, breathless, sliding his hands up to slip his fingers under the garters, over the tops of Gabe's stockings. They were so tight around his thighs he could feel the strain in the weave struggling to stay on. It was just about the hottest thing he'd ever seen. It didn’t help Gabriel was wearing a jock-strap, since anything else under that suit would have been infinitely more uncomfortable, so he was pretty much just prominent, hanging erection and gorgeous, sweat-slick thighs from the waist down.

"I—" Gabe began, and then snapped, "That's not how it _works_ , pendejo de mierda!" Jack shrugged—how was he supposed to know?

"You're the expert," he spread Gabe's thighs further, slid between them to rub his dick, hard and still in his boxers, up against Gabriel's, fumbling to get both their cups out and set aside. Gabe hissed, and Jack tugged at his fly to get his own erection out and palmed the damp head, thumb sliding through the slit and taking the bead of pre there, grinding it into his skin, before doing the same to Gabriel. "I don't know how that damn thing it works." As he said it, he continued to massage Gabe's thighs, feeling the impressive bulge of his muscle through the sheer fabric of his stockings.

"You having fun down there?" Reaper asked, after a good long while of Jack just grinding their naked erections together and rhythmically groping his thighs. He was trying to sound pissed-off, but it just came out breathless. Apparently, getting his mancrusher thighs massaged was doing just as much for him as it was for Jack, which was something. "You're just groping my thighs, don't you want to try anything _else_?" He tilted his ass up, teeth a grimace. "I've got a nice ass, too."

"Thighs are better," Jack kept massaging them, let Gabe bite bruises onto the column of his neck. "Next time you try shooting me, just suffocate me with these instead."

Gabe stared at him, flabbergasted, and then half-laughed in complete absurdity at the statement, fingers digging bruises into Jack's shoulders. "Jesus," he whispered, and Jack kissed him again, tumbled him further over, and pressed his thighs together until Gabe turned half-sideways, knees propped around one of his elbows.

He spat onto his hand and slicked his cock with that before he pressed it between Gabe's legs, groaning at the feeling of the ridiculous lacy garter against his cock combined with the silky feeling of his stockings and the heat and tightness of his well-muscled thighs. Gabe rolled his head back onto the dirty floor of the empty warehouse they were using for an assignation, groaned as Jack got one hand around their erections and started pumping them together, and fumbled to lift the back of his ridiculous cloak to spit on his fingers and start working one inside him. Gabe groaned at the feeling of it, clenching down hard in pleasure, and dug his fingertips into Jack's pecs to leave fingerprint bruises pressed in dark and purple around his nipples.

It was a rough, dirty, raw fuck. Gabe came when Jack twisted three spit-lubed fingers inside him, curling up to press near enough for it to count as against his prostate, spitting curses in Spanish as he did. He dragged Jack after him by dragging him down by the fine hairs at the nape of his neck to bite his lips until they bled into the kiss, and tensing his thighs until they were rock-hard.

Jack came all over his garters and stockings and left Gabe cursing angrily as he did it, laughing into their half-bite of a kiss. He kept thrusting until it was too much and then slowed, pulling his cock away and wiping his come onto Gabe's legs before he tucked himself away.

"I really will shoot you," the Reaper said, tiredly, as he looked at the absolute ruin of his stockings, a scowl mangling his already-mangled face. He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. "Those are unwearable." Jack didn't say it aloud, but that had kind of been his intention. Reaper just dealt with it brusquely by ripping his stockings off just above his knees and tugging his gloves back on to slice the garters with the talons.

They fumbled in silence to get their clothes back on, and Gabriel bit Jack's lips once more, bloody, before they got their masks back on. 

That should have been it, one stupid battlefield assignation just like their _last_ stupid battlefield assignation, just like their next one would be, except halfway through extraction Soldier 76 ducked reflexively when he felt something whistle over his head, and jumped back, assuming it was a grenade, or a smoke bomb, or—

It was the remains of a black lace garter belt. Covered in something damp, sticky, and whiteish.

"The fuck is that," McCree said, lifting the brim of his hat to stare at the garter on the ground, squinting. "Is that...a _garter?_ " Soldier 76 grunted noncommittally as he shook his head at it, refusing to be connected with it. "What the hell is on it—" Jesse bent over, and then recoiled with a shout of surprise, alarm and disgust when he realised what the pearlescent mess drying on it was.

"Jesus Christ," said Soldier 76, when he heard a distant faux-murderous laugh.

He hated that guy.

**Author's Note:**

> 20:34 McCoy: GABE... HAS PROBABLY DONE THE WHOLE REAPER SHTICK POST GETTING REAMED BY JACK IN THE MIDDLE OF A DARK CORNER SOMEWHERE ON THE BATTLEFIELD  
> 20:35 McCoy: AND REALLY THE THOUGHT OF THAT IS /SO FUNNY/  
> 20:35 High Epic Phaedrus: WHICH SHTICK IN PARTICULAR HERE,  
> 20:35 High Epic Phaedrus: like the DIE DIE DIE DIE  
> 20:35 High Epic Phaedrus: THROWING SHOTGUNS SHTICK,  
> 20:35 McCoy: everything  
> 20:36 McCoy: (gestures at reaper)  
> 20:36 McCoy: e v e r y t h i n g  
> 20:36 McCoy: just imagine him doing it while fucked out, in a jock strap, smearing cum all over the ass half of his bodysuit  
> 20:37 High Epic Phaedrus: IM DYING  
> 20:37 McCoy: AND LIKE  
> 20:38 McCoy: HE CAN'T NOT DO IT BC HE HAS A ~*~*~REPUTATION~*~*~ TO MAINTAIN HERE BUT JUST LIKE (INTENSE GRIMACE BEHIND THE MASK AS HE TWISTS THE WRONG WAY AND)  
> 20:42 High Epic Phaedrus: YE A H,  
> 20:43 McCoy: gabe tells himself for the nth time that he's not going to get jack to fuck him in the middle of a firefight

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [wtrmlncrshdbtwnthighs.mp4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169216) by [chuchisushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuchisushi/pseuds/chuchisushi)




End file.
